Taco Bell 50K 2026 战报：在丹佛街头吃下十顿快餐的 50 公里

Updated October 7, 2026 12:26PM

How We Reported This

Dan England put his journalistic and ultrarunning chops where his mouth is, consuming a menu item at 10 different Taco Bells over the course of running 50 kilometers. Along the way, he spoke with the Taco Bell 50K race director and dozens of participants to understand the unique allure of this race, which has expanded from a quirky local event to a beloved race format across the country.

I’ve run 100 miles, climbed all 54 of the 14,000-foot peaks in Colorado, owned a heeler, attended at least a dozen death metal shows, and raised a son and twin daughters. But on Saturday, October 3, I  faced one of the biggest challenges of my life: I had to eat an entire Nachos BellGrande eight hours into a  50-kilometer race.

I was already full of Pintos ’N’ Cheese, a Doritos “Locos” taco, several glasses of Baja Blast, spicy potatoes, Nacho Fries, lots of cinnamon things and, for breakfast, a Chalupa Supreme. I’d run 25 miles through some of the best and worst parts of Denver. It was 88 degrees Fahrenheit.

I was not even remotely hungry.

But this is what it takes to finish the Taco Bell 50K. You have to dig deep. You have to go hard. You have to Live Mås.

What initially was by the race organizers’ own admission probably the stupidest event they could dream up is now, by numbers at least, one of the most popular ultramarathons in the country.

One of those organizers, Dan Zolnikov, and this year’s race director, is flabbergasted at the attention the event has received, even if he still doesn’t quite understand it. Just two years ago, about 250 hungry runners showed up to Denver, the race’s origin and 120 finished. Last year nearly 750 came to run. It’s turned into an epidemic: Using the Denver race as a guide, many other Taco Bell have cropped up across from Tennessee California, organized by other runners who want to inspire people.

Maybe inspire isn’t the right word. The goal, after all, is to eat 10 Taco Bell items at 10 different Taco Bells across the course of a 50K.

This is what it takes to finish the Taco Bell 50K. You have to dig deep. You have to go hard. You have to Live Mås.

And yet, maybe inspire is the right word. It’s safe to say that many, if not most, of the 1,200 or so who showed up Saturday had never run an ultramarathon before and would likely never consider doing one otherwise. More than a few didn’t even know that a 50K is, in fact, five miles longer than a marathon. Even more of them had probably spent more time in a Taco Bell than on a trail, running.

I have proof: The longest any of my three running partners had run was a half marathon. And yet, they were among those ready to run farther than they ever had in their lives while eating food you normally consume when you’re drunk or high.

“Back in 2019, the second year we did it, we had 11 show up,” Zolnikov told me, “and I was blown away by that.”

The race is now enjoying a moment. This year, Denver TV stations swooped down upon the event, and instead of shaking their heads, residents were both horrified and supportive of the idea. Hundreds of cars honked at us as we ran, and dozens of residents sat in their front lawns to cheer us on. One group set up their own aid station with small cups of Modelo, which went down smoother than I expected. I hadn’t received cheers like that in a race since the year I ran the Chicago Marathon in 2013.

The thing is, as goofy and fun and ridiculous as the race is, it’s also hard, and that’s probably the combination that fascinates people. The DNF rate, over 60%, is higher than the Leadville 100. Not only do you run a 50K through a major city, one without many cushy trails, a well-marked route or closed streets, you have to stomach all that Taco Bell. And not only are Tums, Pepto, or Rolaids not allowed, if you puke, you DNF.

This is why I was staring down at the Nachos BellGrande at our eighth Taco Bell. Nachos BellGrande is one of my favorite foods. Now it looked like a pile of compost. We’d already faced many other challenges that day, including overworked soda stations that had run out of ice to cool us off, crowded bathrooms (and a strict edict not to go behind a bush), and the cruel pavement pounding our feet into hamburger.

The clock was also working against us: The 11-hour cutoff nipped at our heels all day. We weren’t sure we were going to make it. There was no time to waste.

I took a deep breath with my first gooey bite.

A Heartwarming (And Heartburning) Origin Story

The origin story of the Taco Bell 50K is actually, against all odds, kind of endearing.

The idea started as most good ideas do: on a group long run. This one, in 2018, was with the Denver chapter of Achilles International, which organizes guided weekly training runs and weekend races for disabled runners. Jason Romero, who is blind, had a bunch of ultrarunning buddies, some of whom had guided him in big races.

Heartwarming, right? Yes, except now this turns into a hard lesson of what happens when you allow ultrarunners to go on group runs together. They ran through a Denver farmers market, where one of the runners loved to eat, and they began to joke about fueling up at the most opposite place they could think of. With apologies to the franchise, that turned out to be Taco Bell.

They joked about it for a few weeks, until Romero, using coarse language, challenged the group. Zolnikov plotted out a 50K course through Denver with 10 Taco Bell stops. It’s the same course now, years later, with a few alterations.

The idea was only sort of batshit crazy. Unlike at a road marathon, a good ultramarathon aid station isn’t just stocked with Gatorade and gels—it’s full of real food. This was my answer when my friends, even other runners, called me insane for signing up for the 2026 Taco Bell 50K.

What do you think I eat at aid stations? Salad?

Still, Taco Bell is infamous for challenging even the most iron of stomachs. My Latina wife, who spent several hours on the bathroom floor after one late-night trip, hasn’t eaten it in years. After the inaugural event, Romero admits he and his friends were wrecked and spent far too many hours in a bathroom.

Taco Bell is infamous for challenging even the most iron of stomachs. My Latina wife, who spent several hours on the bathroom floor after one late-night trip, hasn’t eaten it in years.

So, against my better judgment, I did what I do when I sign up for any ultra: I trained. Over the course of three months, I ate at Taco Bell an embarrassing number of times. Kelly, one of my best friends and a former co-worker who is “mostly” a vegetarian and had the idea to sign up for it, took several taco trips herself. She also tried to follow a training plan I put together, but her toddler and infant, along with a demanding job, prevented her from completing many of her longest runs, other than a tough trail half marathon.

When I picked her up, at 4:30 a.m., a couple minutes from my home in Greeley, she asked me how I slept before interrupting me and saying her kids screamed at her all night.

We found a place to park close to the start of the race, a Taco Bell with beautiful arches to run through, a design so clever you’d think it was built for the race (it wasn’t). We pulled in at 5:45 a.m. and grabbed a bib from an unmanned table, with Sharpies so you could write your name. Some wrote things like “Beefy Runner,” “Macho Supreme” and “The Little Dog Who Says ‘Yo Quiero Taco Bell’.”

We hooked up with her two friends, tried to use a bathroom at Safeway. Kelly got in, but the men’s line was too long, at least a half-hour wait. This was a theme all day because there weren’t many women running the race: Women are generally smarter than men. The females couldn’t help but gloat at us as they swept past.

“My my my,” one said. “How the tables have turned.”

A few minutes before the huge crowd gathered to listen to Zolnikov’s pre-race briefing, I unwrapped one of my two “big” items, a Chalupa Supreme, an overstuffed fried taco—I decided to start big while my stomach was empty. Last year, they allowed participants to eat during the 7 a.m. briefing, and I figured a few minutes couldn’t hurt. Kelly vehemently disagreed.

“YOU’RE CHEATING,” she said.

Fine. I wrapped up my fried taco and waited for Zolnikov to talk to us about the rules—keep your wrappers, eat two big items, don’t be feral to the Taco Bell workers—safety (don’t run in front of cars) and no shitting in alleys before taking my first bite.

The race had four waves, from fastest to slowest, all by their own determination, and began with AC/DC’s “Thunderstruck,” probably the most appropriate song for this occasion. We were one of the last to line up. We’d stay near that position for much of the race.

A Goofy Good Time

Kelly chided me for my serious demeanor as we approached the first stop. Everyone was having so much fun, she said. Yes, I thought to myself, that’s because they don’t know what’s coming. I’d done ultras. They always hurt.

But, OK, fine, let’s focus on the whimsy, for now.

At the first stop, a group of five dressed in tacos practiced cannibalism. The group leader, who had run a 100K earlier this year, found the costumes on Amazon and then made taco hats. The farthest her best friend (also in the group) had run was 6 miles, a smidge less than 50K.

The group of five all grew up together in Tennessee. They were a handful of the hundreds—yes, hundreds—who traveled out of state to take part in the original and hence superior Taco Bell 50K.

I got their names, but I spilled Baja Blast on my phone screen and panic-wiped it with a napkin and erased the note on my phone.

Are the taco costumes comfortable?

“Not really,” the group leader said.

The Taco Bell 50K doesn’t sell race shirts or any merch at all—in this era of trail and ultrarunning commercialization, it’s heartening to see how the race organizers refuse to make a buck off it—so runners, just like the taco worshippers, wore their own fun. Many, if not most, wore some kind of goofy shirt, many with Taco Bell themes. I wore a colorful, button-up skull shirt. Kelly wore a hat that she made, something about how those who get diarrhea from Taco Bell have weak bloodlines. We saw one runner with a Del Taco button up shirt, which made me laugh.

At the third Taco Bell, Kelly ate her Burrito Supreme, so she’d already consumed her two required big items. She thought going big early would pay off. I needed a break after the Chalupa and Doritos taco and ate some small Cinnabuns instead.

Kelly and I had purchased our first four items the day before and kept them in the fridge overnight. This was not only legal but encouraged by race organizers to help prevent us from overwhelming the stores.

But in Taco Bell’s defense, they were ready. Maybe that’s because Zolnikov admittedly harassed many store owners in advance. Maybe it’s because nearly all runners used the mobile app to order ahead, as we did. (Technology is awesome!) Plus, at most stops, there were crates of free bottled water for runners. It was a life saver on a hot day: I was unable to carry much water because my pack was either full of food we carried for the first four stops or the wrappers and containers you have to keep until the end to prove to race organizers that you consumed 10 items.

We get our first taste of dirt, a trail around Sloan’s Lake, a Denver centerpiece, after the third stop, and the route begins to change from questionable urban areas to parks and neighborhoods. It’s actually beautiful.

I pass by a runner who has a plastic bag full of Cinnamon Twists. They will be eight of his meals, he told me. THAT’S CHEATING, Kelly, I say to myself, and kinda bullshit. That’s why they require runners to eat two big items.

We aren’t abusing the rules as much. So far for us, everything is staying down.

Too Close for Comfort

At the eighth stop, I use my vast experience at eating when I don’t feel like it, a common problem at ultras, and hork down the nachos. My stomach whines.

I take solace in the fact that I have actually felt better after eating at every stop, not worse. That’s usually my experience in ultras, and it remains true after every Taco Bell stop.

I wonder if I’m eating close to the same calories I’d eat during any 11-hour race, not just this one. Yes, it’s Taco Bell, but there are many foods you eat during an ultra that aren’t exactly nutritious. In past races I’ve had peanut butter cookies slathered in Nutella, bratwursts, chips, quesadillas, pancakes drenched in syrup and lots of bacon. I also drink lots of soda, which is something I never do in my other life, and some crappy beer. Taco Bell is full of carbs and calories and probably a lot of sugar: It’s “bad” for you. “Bad” is exactly what you need in an ultramarathon.

Still, the nachos were tough to swallow. When we start to run again—I’d generously call it a lope—I have a frightening burp, the wet kind that could go either way, like a fart. (In case you’re wondering, shitting yourself is, as far as I can tell, allowed) We agree to walk to let our food digest.

We also continue walking because the real race, as they say, has now started. I have a blister the size of a half dollar on the bottom of my right foot. Kelly says her feet are covered in them. One of Kelly’s friends, Ana, took a digger hours ago and gashed her knee. Everyone is hurting.

Everyone is hurting.

A goofy 50K is still a 50K, and many of the back of the pack are experiencing, for the first time, the kind of suffering that comes with an ultra. When I ask a group of 30 in the 10th Taco Bell if anyone has run an ultra before, they all shake their heads.

“I don’t think anyone here has even run a marathon,” says one woman who ran “maybe five miles” for her longest training run.

This is the beauty and brutality of this race. Many of its participants will push themselves harder than they ever have before and will be able to call themselves ultramarathoners by the end. Maybe, and probably, a few will continue. Amanda, Kelly’s other friend, said in the race, “I’m just so grateful to be able to move my body,” which is exactly what an ultrarunner would say.

There are fast people who do this event. Professional runner Sage Canaday runs it every year. This year he came in second behind Aquinas Lasnoski, who finished in 3:44:37 to break Canaday’s course record. (“Running fitness wasn’t there,” Canaday wrote on Strava. “Eating fitness kind if was.”) But this is a race for slow people like me. If you run too hard, your stomach doesn’t have a chance to digest all that food, and again, puking means you’re out.

The only problem with being slow is cutoffs haunt you. This race only has one cutoff, and it comes faster than we expect. We forget that our GPS watches add mileage for everything, even trips to the bathroom, and when we look at the course on our phones, we are unpleasantly surprised to discover that we still have 2 miles to go and only 35 minutes to do it.

When we start to run, our bodies protest in different ways. Our stomachs, thankfully, are fine, but our feet and joints and knees and spirits are beat up. We are tired and hot and ready to be done. But this is what it takes to finish the Taco Bell 50K. You have to dig deep. You have to go hard. You have to Live Mås.

We bang out a mile in 11 minutes, and all of a sudden, the arch, that glorious purple arch full of other runners and spectators, appears in our view. We finish with 10 minutes to spare.

We present our wrappers, get a taco sauce packet attached to a gold ribbon for our finisher’s medal, and limp back to the car for the drive home.

We skip dinner.

The next day, we report how we’re feeling in our new group chat. We’re proud of ourselves: Less than half the field, about 600 runners, finished the race, according to the somewhat official stats.

“We are badasses!” Kelly writes.

The consensus is that everyone feels better than they thought they would. (Maybe all that mid-race fueling actually helped with recovery?) It was also more fun than they thought it would be. The underlying message is one that no one wants to say out loud just yet: Maybe we will join all the crazy fools again next year.

What I Ate at the Taco Bell 50K:

Stop 1: Chalupa Supreme
Stop 2: Doritos “Locos” taco
Stop 3: Cinnabon two-pack
Stop 4:Pintos N Cheese
Stop 5: Cinnamon Twists
Stop 6: Nacho Fries
Stop 7: Chicken taco
Stop 8: Nachos BellGrande
Stop 9: Cinnabon two-pack
Stop 10: Cinnabon two-pack

Bonus: Lots of Baja Blast, root beer, red Gatorade, and a bottle of water at each stop